Chapter 109 – Monsters

Silence reigned, and reigned still, until even the small twitch of a finger felt like thunder.

All the Heirs of the Tiered families stood inside the half-destroyed Hall of Welcomes, eyes vacant and lost, breath shallow and ragged, sweat dripping down the backs of their necks.

It felt, to every one of them, as though whatever had just happened hadn’t faded. As if the visions, the sight of the battles, had been carved into their memories, forever to be relived.

With that came an eerie sensation, as if they themselves had been the ones fighting. As if the two attacks a moment ago had existed for the sole purpose of obliterating them.

Memories were treacherous like that.

But no.

What they were all feeling, without exception, was simply the residual pressure of Cassius’s battle against Emrys, pressing down on them as if the heavens had stretched out a hand and sought to flatten them like insects.

That feeling caused their fear of Emrys to increase exponentially. Then the questions came, and the answers those questions brought were far too bitter.

How, they began to wonder with shaking hearts, could they ever survive fighting that monster?

How could they stand toe to toe with a man at Mortal Rank who wielded a sword capable of Manifestations and an Ultimate Skill?

It was impossible.

Yes, it was.

And yet someone had done it.

Cassius Desdemona. The Last Born of the Desdemona.

He had gone against Emrys Stormblessed, trading blow for blow, and had wounded him to a degree that forced the monster to use an Ultimate Skill just to win.

All of them had thought it was over long before that point. Most would have given up had they ever reached it.

Yet even then, with body breaking, barely standing, Cassius hadn’t given up. He had held his ground, straight like a pillar, and in that pitiful state, fired a skill that had held, even if for a fleeting moment, against an Ultimate.

That realisation sent all of them reeling, their insides knotting up.

And if they added to that the memory of his immunity to fire, and the harrowing skill that allowed him to detonate his own blood...

Slowly, without even noticing, their perception of Cassius began to shift.

It moved from: Emrys is a monster. To: Cassius was able to fight that monster.

Which made Cassius...what, exactly?

The answer was obvious. And it was an answer many of them resented. So they found themselves asking a new question instead:

Would I win if I fought Cassius Desdemona?

It was surprising how most — if not all — of them found themselves frowning deeply at the answer they naturally arrived at.

And so, watching Cassius being held upright by the Head Maid, all the Heirs reached one dreadful conclusion.

They had been fooled.

Cassius Desdemona was not a useless bastard.

Cassius Desdemona was...

"...a damn monster." Klaus muttered, a wide smile spreading across his face, his body shaking with excitement. Something inside him was waking up again. Something that had been dormant since the day news of Cassius’s talentlessness had first spread.

’Ah. Now I see it, Editor.’ Meadow thought, standing beside Esmeray, a faint laugh escaping her. ’With you involved, it will most certainly be worth it.’

’Dangerous.’ Anesthesia hissed inwardly, standing beside Raven. ’Cassius is far too dangerous.’

And unlike the others, who were only confronting his raw strength, Anesthesia saw much more. His power was the least of what disturbed her.

A man with strength but no mind to use it could be manipulated like a sheep by a shepherd. A man with a sharp mind but no power to protect his intellect was a bug waiting to be crushed.

But a man with both deep power and a mind as sharp as a blade?

Anesthesia clenched her jaw. ’...Cassius. Cassius. Cassius.’ She repeated his name inwardly, closing her eyes, trying to settle the emotions churning inside her. ’...who are you, really?’

"Ouch!" Cassius yelped in pain, shooting a glare at Persephone, who was holding him with far too much force around his shoulder. "...gently, will you?"

"I am being as gentle as I can." She replied curtly.

Cassius groaned again.

It felt like punishment, he thought bitterly, but wisely chose not to say so aloud.

Persephone’s mind was elsewhere entirely. Thoughts moved through her old, fragmented consciousness in rapid succession.

Even though she had arrived as fast as she could the moment she felt the deaths of her guards through their souls, the Head Maid had still had enough time to notice one deeply troubling thing.

An intruder had managed to reach the Burial Ground of Hood and open its door.

How any of this had occurred without anyone noticing puzzled Persephone deeply, though none of it showed on her face.

’The Linked Artifact of Mort has been stolen.’ She thought with a strange calm laced with anger, wondering who had dared to plunder the Hood Royal Family.

She hadn’t had time yet to properly inspect the headless woman’s body, but Persephone would have sworn she had seen a burning mark on her lower back: an inverted Red Moon rendered in tiny daggers.

’Crimson Daggers...’ Persephone mused, her eyes going colder and colder.

She pressed her lips together, shook her head almost imperceptibly, and decided to think more on it later.

She redirected her attention to Cassius and became, strangely, even angrier.

The Head Maid despised, at the very depth of her fragmented heart, seeing Cassius in pain.

With one look, she assessed his full condition and nearly clicked her tongue.

His body was blistering hot, steam rising from near-crimson skin. His face was pale, showing clearly the lack of blood. His skin bore numerous ruptures, as though sections of it had been blasted outward.

He was shaking. His eyes were dropping with fatigue.

Taking in his state, Persephone determined that a Tier Five healing potion alone would not be enough.

Even so, she produced three Tier Five Healing Potions — the maximum a person could ingest at once — and personally administered them into Cassius’s mouth.

It looked like a mother feeding a sick child...if one ignored the fact that Persephone appeared to be no older than seven or eight.

Cassius’s face flushed red. "You don’t need to—!"

"This won’t be sufficient, Last Born." Persephone cut in simply. "We will need an Apothecary to complete your recovery."

Only Apothecaries possessed Tier Four and above healing potions. No one else in the Kingdom or even the World had the right to hold them; and even if they wished to, none had the skill to concoct them.

That alone made Apothecaries indispensable to every major house.

"That bad?" Cassius asked, already knowing the answer, feeling marginally better after the three potions.

Persephone didn’t bother answering. She was afraid she would say more than she should.

Instead, she raised her head and looked at the Heirs scattered across the destroyed Hall. Their faces carried a mixture of shock, fear and deep apprehension, especially when their eyes settled on Emrys and Cassius.

The recent events had proven something none of them had ever expected.

Raven and Esmeray began walking toward Cassius. So did Klaus, Keisha, Natalia and Meadow; their expressions varying dramatically from one to another, their thoughts unreadable.

Anesthesia, using Emrys’s state as her excuse, and him being her childhood friend despite everything, ran toward him instead, clutching three Tier Five potions.

The young man’s condition was already strangely improved. His broken arm had reset itself, golden lightning coursing through it. His face had partially recovered, new skin growing.

Something inside him was slowly healing Emrys on its own.

And yet...

"Please, Em, drink them." Anesthesia pleaded, holding onto him, afraid he would collapse from exhaustion.

Emrys only stared at her, his eyes tired but cold. "Why are you here?" He croaked. "G-Go towards your boyfr—!"

"You know well he is not my boyfriend!" She said in a hushed tone, turning to face him fully, her back to the others, their faces close. "Em, please, you know Cassius by now. He only wants to cause us problems. Nothing else, nothing more."

At the side, Jonathan watched Anesthesia this close to Emrys with gritted teeth. His blue eyes began to burn with venom.

"You fought with them, Anesthesia." Emrys grated, still refusing to take the potions from her hand. "I don’t think you understand what you did. You fought with them...against me."

"And you, Emrys?" She retorted. "I needed to protect myself. You attacked me, Em. Do you realise that? Me. Your lover."

"For Vorn’s sake, don’t give me that excuse." Emrys shook his head in disappointment. "You know better than anyone what control I have over my own power. I attacked Cassius and the Hood. Only them. My attack would not have hurt you if you had stayed still. And you know that, Anesthesia. I can inject my Will into my attacks."

Anesthesia’s eyes widened slightly, remembering that fact only now. At the time, between Cassius’s foul mouth and the chaos of the Red Moon attack, she had lost composure entirely, forgetting that Emrys could direct his will into his attacks, ensuring they only harmed those he intended.

That was why his Lightning’s Breath had not touched the other heirs.

She bit her lip tightly, shame and embarrassment flooding through her.

"Later." She promised, trying again to help him drink with no success. "I will apologise later, Em. I promise. I will do whatever you want. But right now you need to drink these. Vorn’s breath, look at your face!"

Emrys paused. He looked at his lover and saw — despite everything — the sincerity and love she held for him, plain as day.

He wanted to look away just as easily as she seemed able to set her feelings aside for her goals. But the Chosen One found himself unable to do it. His heart, his greatest curse, longed to be with her again. To feel her presence. To hold her hand. To embrace her.

In the end, he sighed, too tired to keep fighting his own heart, and opened his mouth.

"Fi—!"

"Here!"

A voice, lovely and bright despite the tense atmosphere, cut the moment in two.

Anesthesia lifted her head. Love stood there, smiling, extending three Tier Five Healing Potions toward Emrys.

"These ones are enhanced by runes." She explained, ignoring Anesthesia’s glare entirely. "They will be more efficient and won’t leave scars. You should still visit an Apothecary afterward to be certain."

The Chosen Heiress was speechless, staring at Love with barely contained outrage.

"What are you doing?" She asked, voice cold with fury. "Can’t you see—!"

"Thanks, Love." Emrys interrupted Anesthesia, moved away from her grasp and took the potions from Love’s hands.

Anesthesia was stunned. Face frozen.

She looked at Love and saw, on that beautiful face, a thin, almost mocking smile.

"The Prince, your boyfriend, is waiting for you, Anesthesia. Don’t keep him waiting." Love said. 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

And with those words, she finally showed her true colours. The ones she had been concealing all this time. The fact that she — beautiful, admired by all, with her status and her Model career — was jealous of Anesthesia, who was nothing but a Tier Three offspring.

All because of her beauty. But more than that, because of Emrys’s unconditional love for her. Love had wished, and still wished, to take that place in his heart for herself.

Emrys noticed nothing.

But Anesthesia did. And her purple eyes became colder than the grip of death.

Before the exchange could escalate further, however, the Head Maid’s voice echoed through the entire Hall, pulling everyone’s attention toward her.

Cassius stood beside her, encircled by his friends and family, all staring at him with stunned eyes. They stayed silent only because of Persephone.

Cassius was grateful for that. He needed the quiet. His blood was slowly regenerating, and the Tier Five poison was partially neutralised.

But it was not enough. And he was exhausted beyond measure.

Still, he tried to listen to Persephone’s words.

"All of you." She said, her voice carrying the weight of a command. "Come closer. I have informed both the King and the Queen of the destruction and the attack. However, I still lack many details."

She swept her eyes across the gathered Heirs, then slowly, "Tell me what happened. One at a time."

The Heirs looked at one another, uncertain what to say first.

Should they address the terrorist attack of the Red Moon, or the battle between Cassius and Emrys?

They were perplexed.

Then one person spoke up from the silence.

The fat young man, the one who had shrunk to the size of a stick after using his Aspect.

His name was Nourou. Heir of the Tier Three Faim Family.

"Ah," he said, licking his lips, "I can explain what happened." He finished, bunch of food inside his mouth, looking at the Head Maid, a plate of food salvaged from the destroyed table in hand.

Persephone looked at him for a moment, then nodded with no change of expression.

"I am listening."

...

Meanwhile, outside the Royal Palace, Morgan Desdemona, in her true body, entered the palace without much issue, allowed inside after informing her family and her little brother of her intentions.

But instead of heading toward the Hall or Cassius’s room, the firstborn of the Desdemona walked calmly, though quite hurriedly, straight to her own room.

Along the way she noticed the guards and servants moving restlessly, whispering about a terrorist attack during the Event.

Morgan’s heart tightened with worry for Cassius. But she needed to secure the Linked Artifact before anything else.

Soon enough, she arrived.

Her room was sparse, containing only a bed and the basic necessities, decorated in dark colours of shadow.

There, Morgan’s dark eyes landed on the maid she had used, now bound by an essence-suppression artifact and kneeling on the floor. Her mouth was gagged with cloth, her eyes dilating in terror the moment they settled on Morgan.

She understood her fate immediately. Tears began to pour down her face.

This was Morgan’s own doing. She had managed to chain the body herself in the brief window before her Soulblade Manifestation ended.

Morgan smiled, eyes moving to the Linked Artifact resting beside the maid, glowing with an ancient aura.

Without a word, she approached the maid, crouched down and placed both hands on either side of her head.

The maid’s tears intensified, recognising the features of the Desdemona in Morgan’s face.

"I am sorry, beautiful." Morgan whispered, her eyes glowing dark. "But I need you to die."

Without another word, she snapped the maid’s head three hundred and sixty degrees in one clean motion. The cracking sound filled the room.

The body went limp.

Morgan stored it inside her space ring, then turned her attention to the Linked Artifact. She took it in her hand.

This time, the remnant soul of Mort — her grandfather — reacted differently. As if he had been anticipating her.

’You have done something outrageous, granddaughter. Something that could get you killed in the worst way possible.’ He said. ’Why?’

’Don’t you want it?’ Morgan said, looking at the picture steadily.

’Want what?’

She smiled.

’A new life.’

—End of Chapter 109—